Day 13 – NaPoWriMo/ A to Z Challenge/Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Ghazals – “The Dragon Boat Returns to Shore” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write a ghazal. The GoodReads Quote begins with the letter for the A to Z Challenge. Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF as well. 


“A Ghazal is a poem that is made up like an odd numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line. The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that preceedes the refrain. Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme, and the last couplet should refer to the authors pen-name… The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.”

See: www.shadowpoetry.com


Dragon Boat SPF
Credit: Alistair Forbes – A Mixed Bag

“And though I came to forget or regret all I have ever done, yet I would remember that once I saw the dragons aloft on the wind at sunset above the western isles; and I would be content.” Ursula K. Le Guin, The Farthest Shore


The dragon boats arrive, the sea pulling them into shore,

Watching remotely from a distance, will he be on shore?

For many months they wandered, the boat their prized shelter,

Now they are home, the boat still floats, they’re at the shore.

I’m afraid to see them, brothers, their friends, so dear to me changed,

I wave, my kin they come forward their eyes remote, onto shore.

They’re gaunt, they’re battle worn, they need food, steaming hot baths to soothe,

Once they settle, they talk, thick coats warm them on the shore.

My brothers, my childhood friends, have lost part of themselves,

On the ocean suffered, in baren lands they smote on the cold shore.

They’ve treasures, furs, they’ve jewels, silver, gold — they lost their life spark,

Gazing at my love, his face coated in grime, eyes dead on shore.

The days pass by, the village returns to normal almost,

Except the men who left; returned forever remote to shore.

I talk to him, I talk to my brothers, hearing how each piece,

Of their self died, no matter we doated on them on shore.

Time passes, I think I’m seeing things when his eyes alter,

Warmth returns, he takes my hand, away from the boat on shore.


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

B&P’s Shadorma: “For the Blessed and Those Who Need” #amwriting #poetry #shadorma


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this B&P’s Shadorma prompt on the holiday season and Dickensian goodwill towards men. 

—–

Credit: http://www.pinterest.com

—–

Gathering with, 

Our families a bond, 

There, despite —

The distance. 

Sharing our lives together

Meeting, laughing, joy.

—-

Siblings, 

Connecting; though years —

In childhood, 

Have passed by. 

Fiances, partners, meeting —

New loved ones enfold.

—-

Families, 

They grow and alter. 

Babies too, 

Added and —

Some family sadly they pass, 

Onto their forever home.

And on the —

New Year, we gather, 

Again to —

Ring in a —

Better year, with promise; hope, 

Less pain, more grace known. 

—–

So I pray, 

For all of you, when —

You pour the —

Champagne and —

Kiss your most beloved one, 

Think too, of suffering

Those whose holidays, 

Have less cheer, are hard

Those who fight

Have trials

Those without home, wealth, and —

Know not where food comes.

—–

For those who, 

Are trying to feed, 

Little mouths. 

They go with —

Out; but they need energy,

To work, to provide.

—-

For those who’ve, 

Demons inside, they can’t —

Struggle more, 

And survive.

For those who don’t know there’s hope

Think and aid them all.

—-

Help comes in, 

Many ways; talking, 

Mere words which, 

Keep the edge,

Far away; give friendship, gifts —

Something showing thought. 
—-

You can help, 

Volunteer to kids, 

Charity, 

Read with them. 

You can do many thoughtful

Things; don’t forget.

—-

For those snug, 

At home and gifted to know, 

Warmth and love. 

Abundantly

Blessed; may we keep the —

Season in our hearts. 

—-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Petrarchen Sonnet – “When Autumn Falls” #taleweaver #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this prompt on the changing of seasons into Fall and how it influences our thinking.

——-

Credit: Mara Eastern with permission.

——–

Leaves begin to change, butterscotch yellow, 

The reds and oranges blaze into being.

I’ve even seen dark purple plum seeming, 

To alter green from summers pleasant glow.

Sunlight fades to shorter nights, cold wind blows.

Shorts and sandals packed, sadly left dreaming.

Of gorgeous nights spent breathing warmth, now seeing —

Prayers streaming to God, please yet keep the snow. 

——–

Favourite season, feel comfortable walking, 

Strewn leaves, scented decay and pleased —

On the porch still sipping wine and talking.

No sunburns now, most loved fashion season, 

Fancy boots and shoes; snow please stop stalking. 

Always unwanted, snow comes, lace knocking.

——

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Reading On Sunday


Thanks to Nortina for hosting Moral Monday’s prompts. This week’s moral is any moral our Dad taught us.


Little Girl Reads Bible Verse
http://www.teachinghelp.org

The eight-year-old girl was crying. When a bulletin had come around church asking for people to read Bible verses once a month, the girl thought she could do it.

It was time for her to read the first lesson. She forgot how full the pews were on a Sunday.”I don’t want to do this Daddy,” said the little girl tearfully.

Her Dad comforted her and said: “I’m sorry but you said you would.”

The girl bowed, and stepped up on the alter.She started reading the first lesson into a mic. She was crying, but as she neared half-way, her tears calmed.When she was done reading, she felt peace pass over her.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Prose – “Poker Face”


Today, I’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on things you remember. Try to focus on specific details, and don’t worry about whether the memories are of important events, or are connected to each other. You could start by adopting Brainard’s uniform habit of starting every line with “I remember,” and then you could either cut out all the instances of “I remember,” or leave them all in, or leave just a few in. At any rate, hopefully you’ll wind up with a poem that is heavy on concrete detail, and which uses that detail as its connective tissue. Happy writing!

Please see NaPoWriMo for more information.

——

There are memories and memories inbetween memories, things you shouldn’t know. But I write and I say, what naturally comes to flow. Spending a day building raw story into characters who have flaws and appeal. Characters who are relatable and show affection, lust, a special connection with each other.

 I am building story from the ground level, thanks to a friend, who tore my story down line by line so I am able to build. I’m grateful for everything he sees that I do not. How the story doesn’t flow and how the characters actually appear.

What’s believable in real life? I think an interesting situation because the story involves magic and in real life we don’t believe in curses and the power of magic. We write of it extensively wishing for such power, such talents, such super-human abilities. Probably because we’re human, and sometimes being human makes a person feel mighty small. 

Today’s memories are about editing and refinement. Answering questions I wouldn’t know how to ask. I’m learning. Digging deeper, past the simple, into the complex. I don’t want a one-dimensional story. Though it has magic I want the characters to be real people and I want their flaws and likes/dislikes to show. I want what they’re good at, their occupations, their speech and actions, the people they have around them, to demonstrate their characters.

The minds of people are endlessly fascinating, especially the minds of those who say everything or say nothing. My Grandpa said little, his mind was complicated. He was a Pastor whose smoking habit ended his life at seventy-three -years-old. He would ask questions which made one think and consider alternate routes as he taught me the games of cribbage, chess, and when we attempted cryptograms and crossword puzzles. Grandpa’s questions always hinted at digging deeper, searching for another method, and missed details.

But my Godfather, he says everything. And what he says is thought-provoking. He is always thinking of other people, how to help. He is the bestfriend to his friends and he has many. He can listen but mostly he talks and he’s wise with his words.

I miss him and the second place I call home, his and my Godmothers charming house. His wisdom and continual thinking, his belief in God solving all problems, and finding answers from an omniscient God are well expressed; he gives me such peace after we’ve had a conversation or I’ve listened to him talk.

 And I’m thinking about a paint night I’m doing with friends at the bar Sunday night. Painting, did you know I love it? I will need a couple drinks to merely do as the instructor says, but I know what my hands and mind will do.

 I will mix the paint, either ruin or add to the design. I desire creativity. I’ve said it before, creativity cannot be boxed in its true form. But with a drink or two and two good friends, the evening will pass and I’ll come home, painting in hand.

 Also, finding a good guy — one whom you enjoy being with and talking with is difficult. You need to be attracted to their looks and their intelligence. You hope they such as you, have plans to do ‘something’ with their life. Finding a guy with all these parameters, is it asking too much? I’m not sure. I’m not extensively experienced here.

But time after time I’m disappointed when a date becomes, “come over to my place,” usually at night but sometimes in the day. There is no dating involved. There is no understanding of, ” I’m not interested.” And certain men keep messaging or calling. 

I’m not adverse to sleeping with the right guy. I haven’t found a right guy lately. I don’t know if I’m such as Alice’s friend at tea I’m, ‘mad as a hatter’ to believe there are good guys out there who want to have fun out of bed and when a woman trusts them, in bed too. Laying that foundation of trust is vital.

 I don’t think this thought of mine is right accordingto God but I’m trying to find a happy middle. Maybe my happy middle won’t make me happy? 

I’m tired of guys who only want a night here and there. That was university, I’m going to be thirty-one in July. I’m not twenty-one and even twenty-one year old me would have smacked a guy who kept after her after she repeatedly told him to back off.

Guys don’t get it, they scar women. This is stuff I cannot believe I’m writing but eighteen-year-old me was extremely naive at the bar. Her friend ditched her for some guy. She was all alone and trying to get away from this guy who followed her around the bar. She didn’t have the confidence a girl three or so years older had at the bar, batting away and shooting down idiots before they became stalkers for the night. 

She was so stupid. It’s effected her sense of trust ever since. He didn’t stop for a long time; it only felt like eternity. The repeated “No” in his ears, he was deaf to it until she cried wet tears. There were different guys after that, few who she didn’t mind getting close to.

But always, I have this disgust for men who treat women as if a woman’s existence is for their pleasure, because she wants or needs sex too. Should she have to sleep with a man after she has deliberated and said, “no?” No she shouldn’t, it’s always a woman’s choice, it’s her body after all.

Guy’s scar with their repeated advances boardering on harassment. They scar bruising you badly where they should be gentle. You look to see how purple your bruises are. Not understanding how he didnt comprehend, “don’t be rough.” 

Enough. To much info. But this poem is prose; it is memories past and to come — some awful and some exciting. Building memories writing and living in a world that can be cruel at times. 

But I think if you’re building if you’re working towards a goal you can be proud you’re using your talents despite the cards life and your stupid self may have dealt you playing poker.

Cheesy analogy but ever since I learned to play poker — Texas Holdem — in the basement of my Pastor’s house with friends I’d grown up or met in church at that time, I always think back to poker seeing such a carry over for life. 

Each day, place your bets and see what the ‘river’ holds, and how the cards in your hand can be played. Ask for another card if you dare, trading one in . . . 

We’d drink beer and play poker. We’d watch NFL football and play video games. I never entirely got why some days my poker playing was terrific, while other days I could fold most hands and end up broke. We paid twenty dollars in a pot at the beginning of each game. At times my one brother and I would play with the other players until 3:00 am or 4:00 am in the morning.

I didn’t play much poker after those years ended. But I feel sometimes as if I’m placing my bet, and trying desperately to hold onto my poker face. Tomorrow, more building. It keeps me going.

——

“Poker Face” – Lady Gaga

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Laturnes – ” Be As You Are.”


http://www.pinterest.com

Wish

You could

Go back in

Time and have a

Chance.

To 

Make things

Right again.

I wonder if

You changed the

Past,

How would

It change the

Here and now you

Have.

It 

Is  too

Difficult 

To know change could 

Harm.

Change

The best 

And turn life 

Upside down and 

Worse.

Could 

Befall

You if you

Were not the same

Person.

As

You used

To be in 

Futures past dream

Seen.

So 

Maybe

Instead of

Altering past

Choice.

We 

Should be

Content with

The way things are

Now.

Change 

In past

Incidents could

Go horribly 

Wrong.

So

Come what

May and be

Happy you are 

Free.

To live 

Your life and

All things aside

Be.

The 

Very best

Possible 

Person who is

You.
——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem “Changeling”


In this world we  live

Each of is changing

Some of you might call

Each of us a Changeling

We try to stay the same

But life has its ways

Of taking our plans away

Changelings alter

We must stay the course

And like Alice choose a path

Because nothing will ever 

Be the same again

Good golly, worlds turning

Around and around my friend

And it will never stop

It will turn again

This is the way life goes

Tipping us on or bottoms.

  
http://www.linkedin.com

Changing the Way We Go


I’ve had a variety of ideas lately, mostly ideas that I don’t think have been productive and have been sad and lost. I think that would describe me for the last while as well: “sad” and “lost” and “unproductive.” I’ve been searching for something in my life and although I feel much better about the situation in my life I’m still searching. The thing that I’ve been searching for is change. Have you ever felt like that, that you just needed to alter the path you were going down in life? But that you needed help to make that change?

I spoke to you last blog about feeling trapped and feeling as if I had no where to turn. I often feel that way about my health. The fact that it is not only a mood disorder but that it is or involves chronic fatigue makes it a very difficult disease to deal with. Not only am I limited by not being able to work drive, or often, take the bus but I am limited on how long I can do activities, how long I need to rest after doing an activity, the easiness in which I can make new friends, and the amount of money I can make, and the ease by which I can sleep, and feel rested. And lately as I’ve said it has felt worse trying to concentrate and pay attention, trying to stay up later at night, and getting out of the house during the week.

Sorry if that is repeat for any regular readers but what I’m trying to get across is I had no idea how much a disease can limit you and I don’t know if it is possible but I pray that one day I can alter the path this disease has taken me down. That I can go back to being a woman who fills her days with work, activity, and people.

Lately, I have had dreams to travel to Europe. To see Britain, France, Italy, and Greece. And I don’t know how I would do that in this state. I dream about being able to save enough money and just taking off to see these places and having the energy to last a day, to meet and talk with new people, to handle crowds and noises, and to just get away from the reality of life. I think we all do that, dream.

When I picture the life that I have I am not ungrateful, I just wish for more freedom and the ability to handle more responsibility. The ability to be brave and change the outlook of my life. I have such a small view finder of what life is right now and it’s hard not just to see and black and white, to only live through stories. And I wonder so much what if. . . because to look at reality can be very limiting and I’ve always been more of a big picture person.

So what do you think? If you could change your life in some big way, what would you do?